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pairing: spider-man!art donaldson x gf!reader summary: your boyfriend has been lying about something for the past couple of months. at first, you brushed it off as nothing. now, you're convinced he's been cheating on you with another woman. warnings: mentions of cheating word count: 1.5k

It was hard for Art to keep his secret from his girlfriend. He had initially been more than eager to tell you, but the further he got into the job, the more dangerous it became. And as much as he loved you, Art was never willing to put you in dangers way just so that he wouldn’t have to hide. That’s why, he lied. Whenever he was gone for hours at a time, he said he was at the gym. When he come home with bruises and cuts all over his body, he said that a car had hit him while biking to the gym. Despite your ever growing concern for your boyfriend, Art reassured you that everything was fine. It was either odd or genuinely concerning how often he was getting hit by cars. 

You knew he was lying, but it was hard to figure out what he was lying about. Art was an easy person to read and nothing had really seemed too out of the ordinary. Your friends were confident that he was cheating with someone who abused him, but you laughed at their accusations. Art was a sweetheart and would never cheat on you! At least, that’s what you told yourself. When he was gone at the “gym” for ages, you never questioned it; he had the muscles and stamina to back it up. It wasn’t until he came back from the gym with flushed cheeks, mussed hair, and smelling like someone else's perfume, did you start to believe your friends. You gave Art a week to fess up before doing investigative work. When he didn’t say anything, it was time to get to work.

Over the next few days, you’d obsessively poured over his text messages while he was asleep. Much to your disappointment/relief, there was nothing that could point to him cheating. You’d rummaged through his night stand and gym bag, only to come up empty handed. Once you’d exhausted your options at home, you decided to follow him to the gym. Surprisingly, Art was a quick walker when alone. When the two of you went on walks, he took his sweet time and it was always something you complained about. This only furthered your suspicion. There was absolutely no way that your boyfriend was that eager to workout. 

You shadowed him for a good twenty minutes before losing track of him. Art had turned the corner, but he was nowhere to be seen by the time you’d caught up. You looked around, trying to spot the familiar head of blonde hair. He was nowhere to be found, despite his phone location claiming to be right there. You groaned in frustration and were just about to head home when a blur of red and blue swung past your eyes. 

Nearby citizens perked up at the sight of Spider-Man. They cheered and yelled his name while taking videos and photos. You couldn’t resist lifting your phone to take a picture of your own; Art was a huge fan of the hero. After sending him the photo, you started your long walk back home. The entire time, you pondered how Art had just disappeared right in front of your eyes. It wasn’t humanly possible for him to have gotten far ahead enough that you didn’t spot him. You suspected that he might’ve had a car waiting for him that he ducked into. 

By the time he returned from the “gym”, you were in no mood to speak to him. Not only was he a cheater, he was a damn good one. There was no proof of him actually being one which made everything worse. You technically had zero valid reason to be upset. 

“I didn’t know you were going out today.” He said, kissing the top of your head as he passed by the couch. 

You shrugged. 

Art gave you a confused look before heading off to the bathroom to shower. Usually you greeted him with a hug, but now you hardly even glanced in his direction. When he came back to the living room, looking unfairly attractive with his wet hair and gray sweats, Art took a seat next to you. 

“What’d you do while I was gone?” He asked, wrapping his arms around your waist. 

You tensed at the touch, but forced yourself to relax. How could a cheater just be touching you as if nothing was wrong? “I went to the gym.”

It was Art’s turn to freeze. He laughed, but the noise came out strained. “Really, you went without me?”

“I thought I would run into you there, but…” You finally turned to look at him. Your face had an unreadable expression, but Art could tell you were upset. 

“I- it’s not what you think it is.” He said quickly, rubbing a comforting hand up and down your back. 

You scoffed and pushed him away. “Oh bullshit. I know you’ve been lying about going to the gym and I know you’ve been lying about getting hit by a car. I mean for fuck’s sake! I believed it the first time, but did you really think it was believable the fourth and fifth time?”

Art flinched as if you had hit him. You yelling at him was almost as bad as that. He absolutely hated it when you were mad, especially when he was the cause of it. 

“Baby…” He moved to grab your hands, but retracted them when you gave him a withering look. 

“Don’t ‘baby’ me! I know you’re cheating, Art.” You exclaimed, jolting off the couch. 

His brows furrowed in confusion. “What?”

“I know you heard me.”

“I- I did, but I don’t understand.” Your boyfriend watched as you paced the living room. His hands were anxiously fiddling the bracelet you had given him for your first anniversary.

You scoffed and stalked over to where he was sitting. “Don’t even try that innocent act. I know you’re cheating!”

Art nervously licked his lips. “Baby, I really don’t know what you’re talking about! I would never cheat on you. I love you more than anything in the entire world.” He said solemnly. 

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Then why are you constantly going to the ‘gym’ for hours?” You asked. “And why are you coming home smelling like other women’s perfume?”

“What are you-” A look of realization crossed his face before he started laughing; that only made you more furious. How could he laugh at you at a time like this?

Before you could yell at him some more, Art grabbed you by the hands and pulled you down onto the couch. Once you were sat, he knelt in front of you and held both of your hands in his.

“You do know that I love you, right?” He asked. 

You pursed your lips. “I’m not sure I believe that but sure.”

He frowned at your words, but continued. “I’m not cheating on you.”

“Then what are you lying about, huh?”

Art took a deep breath before looking you in the eyes. “I’m Spider-Man.”

You laughed, throwing your head back. “Nice try, but that’s not going to get me to believe you’re not cheating. Besides, I think I would know if you were Spider-Man.”

“I’m serious!” 

“You’re such a fucking liar.”

He groaned in frustration, frantically looking around for something he could use to prove you wrong. “Just- just stay here.” Art sprinted out of the living room and headed to your shared bedroom. 

You stared after him in confusion. Just as you were about to follow after him, Spider-Man walked out. 

“See, I really am Spider-Man!”

Despite seeing the physical proof, you could hardly believe it. “That’s just a costume!”

Art sighed and jumped onto the ceiling. You screamed and stumbled backwards, causing you to lose your balance. Before you could trip and hit your head on the corner of the coffee table, Art was landing on the floor and pulling you towards him with his webs. He pulled off his mask and smiled at you. “See?”

“I.. but- what?” You stammered. 

He laughed, pulling you into a hug. “I told you, I’m Spider-Man.”

Hesitantly you wrapped your arms around him, allowing yourself to relax. “So when you say you’re going to the gym you’re off being Spider-Man?”

Art nodded. “And when I say I got hit by a car…”

“I feel like a fool.” You groaned, burying your face into the crook of his neck. He ran his hands through your hair. 

“Baby, it’s fine. Your assumptions were completely reasonable.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Art pulled away far enough so that he could see your face. “I didn’t want to risk you getting hurt because you knew my identity. I wanted to keep you safe.” He kissed the tip of your nose. 

You nodded and allowed yourself to gawk at the sight of your boyfriend in his suit. “So… have you ever wanted to try it with the mask on?”

the music that played throughout the frat house was loud and obnoxious, but you could barely find it in yourself to care. art's hand was intertwined with yours as he carefully lead you through the sea of sweating bodies. the two of you headed upstairs, ignoring the curious looks you got or the frat brothers cheering art on. he laughed at your pink cheeks, kissing your temple. 

"don't mind them," he reassured you. "they're just being dicks about me finally making a move."

you laughed, "have you really been waiting for a year to work up the courage?"

art grinned. "you know i never say things i don't mean."

that night was spent tangled in art's sheets, his lips against every inch of your skin that he could reach. his touch was gentle, but there was a certainness to it. art knew where and how to touch you, almost as if he'd spent years learning and studying your body. your hands tangled into his curls, tugging at the strands just to hear him moan. soft kisses were exchanged every time art increased his pace. your nails dragged down his back, leaving behind bright red marks. 

it was late in the night when you snuck out of bed. you quietly got redressed before slipping out of his bedroom. you knew it was wrong to leave without a word, but it was something that had to be done. even though art had confessed his feelings earlier that day, you couldn't trust them. he was a frat boy after all and art was never known for his commitment. 

–

"he's ready for you," the receptionist said, tablet in hand. you followed behind her as she led you to the office where your onboarding would take place. you'd recently received a promotion to assistant director, so you'd be working under a new boss. 

the woman stopped in front of a plain wooden door. "here we are," she smiles. "if you need anything i'll be just across the way." she gestured towards a desk a few feet from the door. with one last reassuring smile, she was gone. 

you stared at the door, bracing yourself for whatever was next. you'd never met mr. donaldson before, but you'd heard the stories. rumors flew around the office that he was generally decent, but after his divorce he'd taken a 180. he no longer smiled, a constant scowl or frown gracing his features. the latest incident was that he sent an intern packing after he'd gotten a coffee order wrong. with a final deep breath, you grabbed the door handle and pushed the door open. 

the first thing you noticed was how beautiful the office was. an entire wall was floor to ceiling windows that looked out to the bustling streets of new york city. a solid oak desk sat at the center of the room, decorated with a few picture frames and a tennis ball that seemed oddly out of place. your eyes fell to the chair where the back was facing you. you couldn't see mr. donaldson yet, but you were already intimidated. after gently shutting the door, you shuffled over to the desk.

you stood for a moment, unsure what to say. were you supposed to wait for him to speak first? or should you introduce yourself? did he already know who you were? had he been the one who selected you for the promotion? you were snapped out of your thoughts when the chair suddenly turned, revealing mr. donaldson. it didn't hit you at first. you took in his striking blue and brown eyes, his blonde hair, but it didn't click. 

"hello mr. donaldson," you squeaked, your voice octaves higher due to nervousness. "i'm-"

he cut you off before you could properly introduce yourself. "i know who you are." his voice was low and sent a shiver down your spine. "don't you remember me?" his head tilted in a way that was almost like a curious puppy. this man didn't seem at all intimidating like people had made him out to be. 

you stammered, "have we met before? i have an awful memory so i'm really sorry if we have met." not even five minutes in and you were making a terrible first impression. 

he shook his head, "you really don't remember?" when you shook his head he laughed. "does the name art donaldson ring a bell?"

your eyes widened. "you can't possibly mean..." art nodded, pointing to the tennis ball on his desk. it suddenly all made sense. your cheeks flushed with embarrassment when you remembered the circumstances under which you'd last seen each other; that had been nearly 6 years ago.

art smiled at your flushed cheeks and your knees nearly gave out from under you. back in college art's smile was always cheeky or cute, but now that he had grown it was hotter in a way that you couldn't quite put into words. "if you don't mind taking a seat, there's a few things i'd like to discuss."

you nodded dumbly and quickly sat down on one of the chairs in front of his desk. it was so surreal to see art again and the fact he was your new boss was even weirder. it was a bit jarring that he didn't seem to have any resentment towards you, but perhaps he was just mature and didn't hold onto childish grudges. 

while art explained some rules he had and what you'd be doing in your new position, you nodded along. you were hardly paying attention to anything he was saying. his lips had caught your attention a while ago and now that was all you could focus on. 

art cleared his throat, "is there something on my mouth?" your eyes quickly flitted back up to his. you shook your head, averting your gaze to the nameplate on his desk. the gleaming gold letters of 'mr. donaldson' stared back at you. 

"could i ask you something?" his voice cut through the quiet room. you had a hunch about what he was going to ask, but you let him ask it anyways. you couldn't escape that night forever. "why'd you leave and then avoid me for the rest of college?"

hearing the words out loud made you wince. it made you sound like an outright ass–which you had been. "it's not that easy to explain."

"we have all the time in the world."

you looked up at his face and weren't sure if you had imagined the flash of hurt that passed through his features. had he truly been upset that you left that night? he didn't bother reaching out afterwards, so you figured he hadn't cared. "i didn't believe you." 

art raised an eyebrow and you continued. "your confession that night. i hadn't fully believed it."

you knew that if you stopped talking, you wouldn't be able to continue. "i wanted to believe that you liked me, but you were a frat boy with a reputation. i'd never had much experience with guys and i didn't want to get hurt so i left before you could hurt me."

art took in your explanation. it was completely valid, but he couldn't help but think it was a little silly. "don't you think that's a stupid reason?" he watched as you winced at his words. "i mean, that all could've been clarified with a conversation. it was a bit childish of you to just... run away."

"oh." was all you could muster. you felt the shame cover your body like a tight bandage. it was suffocating; it squeezed your heart in a way where you could barely breath. you hadn't intended to walk into this office and come out utterly humiliated. 

art sighed and rounded his desk, leaning against it. he was now only a few feet away from you and he towered over you as you sat. neither of you said anything for a few minutes. the receptionist from earlier had walked into the office, dropping off some papers for art to sign. whatever funk the two of you had been in faded and you were quick to leave his office. 

even on the drive home you could still feel his eyes on you and if you tried hard enough, you could still remember what if felt like when he kissed you. it was going to be a long work year, but you reminded yourself that the pay was going to make everything worth it. 

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY YOU GUYS!! LOVE YOU ALL SO SO MUCH AND YOU ARE ALL SO AWESOME AND AMAZING

a/n: this came to me in a dream so the plot is kinda weird

frat!art x stalker-ish!reader

perhaps you knew you were being naive when you agreed to have a no strings relationship with him. maybe a small part of you thought that he might change his mind during your time together and possibly even love you. it always worked out in the movies, so why wouldn't it work for you?

the first night you had spent with art had been magical. he was unlike any other guy you'd been with during your time at stanford. even though he was the stereotypical obnoxious frat boy, behind closed doors he was something else entirely. he kissed you like it was his last dying wish, as if that kiss was the only thing he’d ever wanted in life. art's hands were gentle against your skin as he touched you; they were like a feather that traced over your features. he'd only be rough when you asked him to, always making sure that you were okay with anything he was doing.

maybe it was the way he treated you that made you fall for him. he was a genuinely nice guy, and somewhere in your brain you confused manners for love. outside of the bedroom, art didn't pretend that you didn't exist. at parties he'd come over and say hello, making friendly conversation. during classes he'd sit by you and lend you pencils whenever you forgot yours. it was hard to judge where the line started and ended because the two of you had grown so close. that's why when he wanted to end things so that he could start having a serious girlfriend, you were lost.

hadn't he treated you like a girlfriend? the two of you went on dates, held hands during movies, and kissed every time you walked under a bridge. hadn't that been art telling you he wanted more? hadn’t that been him going beyond no strings attached?

you watched as art and his actual girlfriend held hands around campus. you watched as they did everything that the two of you had done. it made you feel sick. every time their boisterous laugh rung through quiet halls of the school, you wanted to take a tennis racket to their beautiful faces.

it wasn't fair that art had acted like he was your boyfriend, just to leave like the months had meant nothing. you didn't even notice when you'd started taking residence outside his dorm window at night. you watched through his open window as he kissed his girlfriend the way he'd once kissed you. you watched as the two of them stumbled towards art's bed, giggling their heads off.

in some way it was a sort of sick torture watching the two of them; mainly you just watched him. you watched as art would play with her hair as they cuddled in bed. sometimes you'd imagine you were in her place, what it'd feel like to have his hands in your hair. on days when art closed the blinds, you'd walk past his dorm just to hear what they were doing inside. you wanted to hear how she made him moan. you needed to know if she was better than you.

you took some pride in knowing that his sounds were strained; they sounded fake. you started writing him letters about how he deserved so much better. he deserved a girlfriend who could treat him well. you dropped them off while he was away at tennis practice, signing them with a kiss.

—

it had come to you as a bit of a shock when art had broken up with his girlfriend a few months later. you hadn't expected them to end things so soon, but you couldn't be happier. within days art was calling you up and soon enough you were crawling back into his bed.

after a long night of being tangled in his sheets, the two of you cuddled. art's hands ran through your hair, combing the tangled locks. "why'd you guys break up?" you asked as casually as you could muster. not only were you running on after glow, early that day when you'd entered his dorm you saw your letters sitting on his desk. it was surprising that he hadn’t thrown them away like any sensible person would’ve.

you felt him shrug behind you. "don't know. we just didn't really click all that well." you could tell he wasn't telling the whole truth, but you didn't want to pry.

"that sucks," you said, sympathetically. art snorted, burying his face into your hair.

"i know you were happy when you got my text." your cheeks flushed pink. he knew you too well.

you shrugged. "maybe," you muttered meekly.

"and i know they're from you." he said, his free hand tracing shapes along your thigh.

"know what's from me?" you asked, confused. there's no way he could've figured out the letters, right? after all they’re only been two; they were vague enough to not reveal who you were.

art pinched your thigh lightly and laughed when you squeaked at him. "don't play dumb," he whispered into your ear. his breath was hot against your skin and you shivered. "the letters. i know they're from you."

you could feel your blood go cold. had this all been a trap to get you expelled? maybe even report you to the police?

"don't worry," he said quickly. "i don't really care. it's a little flattering."

"flattering?" you stammered, pulling away from him and sitting up. you could hardly meet his eyes, but when you did he was smiling ear to ear—it was confusing. people would usually be frightened or angry, but art was neither. he looked as if you'd just told him some form of good news. not that the girl in his bed was some form of a stalker.

art nodded, "i was testing you, you know." at your bewildered look he continued. "i treated you like a girlfriend and then broke it off on purpose. i wanted to see if you'd be upset and want me back."

you took a moment to process his words. "well did i pass?" you asked awkwardly. this whole situation was beyond confusing and a little weird, but art didn’t seem to mind. in fact, he seemed to like it.

art nodded. "and that's why i want you to be my girlfriend."

well, isn't that a fucked up way to start dating?

baker!art x reader

ever since moving to new york you struggled to find any semblance of a routine, but the one thing you could count on was your favorite bakery. it was just down the street from your apartment and you frequented it whenever you weren’t running late to work. your favorite part about it was that the moment you stepped foot into the threshold, you’d smell the fresh batch of cookies that had been whipped up or the loaf of sourdough that was in the oven. the fact the baker—and only employee—was cute was just an added bonus.

sometimes, even when you were late to work or weren’t even hungry, you’d stop off at the bakery to pick up something small just so you could see him. (you’d learned his name was art around the third time you’d come in. he said you were his first regular customer.) most days you’d buy a cookie that you could snack on throughout the work day, but if you were feeling peckish you’d buy a sandwich and a brownie.

-Anon

art knew it was wrong that he sprouted a boner every single time he had a session with you. he knew that he should probably find a new massage therapist who wasn’t as pretty, didn’t have such a sweet voice—but god, art could never actually bring himself to do it. he would stare at your number on his phone, finger hovering over the call button. all it would take was a few minutes and you’d be gone from his life, but he just couldn’t do it. your hands were so soft and gentle against his skin as you massaged the knots out of his back and art found himself buzzing with excitement before each session.

“how has your back been feeling?” you asked art as you grabbed out the various oils that you would be needed.

his cheeks flushed as he stripped down to his boxers and sat down on the bench. “it’s been feeling a lot better, thanks to you.”

you smiled at his words and warmed up a small bottle of rose scented oil in your hands—it was art’s favorite. he’d never admit it, but the only reason it was his favorite was because you always smelled like roses.

“is there anything in particular that’s been bothering you lately?” you waited for art to lay on his stomach. when he did you poured a small puddle of the rose oil onto his back. when you began to massage it into his skin, art had to bite down a moan. he’d always been sensitive to touch, but your touch was other-worldly.

he hesitated before talking. he knew this would be a risky move but it was now or never—he’d be off on tour next month so he wouldn’t be seeing you soon after this session. “my uh… thigh has been cramping lately.”

if you knew his motive, you didn’t comment on it. “thigh? i can work on that,” you said, wiping you hands off on a towel while art sat up. you poured a small amount of oil onto your hands and began to massage his left thigh.

unexpectedly a small whine left art when your hand brushed against him. he had already started to tent in his boxers. art knew you had noticed, but you were kind enough to not mention it.

you raised an eyebrow and glanced at art. “everything okay?”

his cheeks flushed pink. “y-yeah. just a little sensitive, that’s all.”

you nodded. “just let me know if anything hurts.” you continued to massage his thighs and every so often you would deliberately brush your hand against him. you saw the way he tried to hold back a moan and it was honestly endearing.

the longer you continued to massage him, the closer your hand got to his straining boxers. you smirked when another whine left him and he went even redder.

“does that feel good?” you asked with faux innocence, smiling at art. you thought the poor man would pass out anytime soon. he clenched his jaw and looked anywhere but at you.

the man simply nodded and let you continue his ministrations. you both knew how fucked up this was—art had a wife and kid—but neither of you could find it in yourself to stop. your hands began to wander, lingering at the waistband of his boxers. without a word he lifted his hips slightly so that you could tug them down and off.

you bit your lip to hide your smile when you saw how he was leaking at the tip. it was adorably really that a grown man managed to get this flustered by a few simple touches. your eyes met his and you raised your eyebrows slightly, asking permission. he nodded and with that you were sinking down to your knees in front of him. you’d dreamt about being in this position for weeks, but now that it was finally happening you couldn’t help but be nervous.

sure you’ve had some experience being on the giving end but it had never been with someone you liked as much as art. he seemed to notice your hesitancy and cupped your cheek. his hands were rough with calluses from his years of playing tennis but you couldn’t help but lean into his touch like a cat.

“you don’t have to,” he said, his voice low. it sent a rack of shivers through your body. you shook your head, “i know. i want to.”

his hand went from your cheek to gently gripping your hair. art encouraged your head down and you followed. you parted your lips and licked a hot stripe up his length. his grip tightened and he instinctively pushed your head down further. when you finally took him into you mouth, art thought he could die. he’d never felt anything like this before and it was perfection.

—

by the time art’s official session was over, the two of you were laid out on the floor of your office, breathless. art had you tucked into his side, one arm around your waist and the other playing with the strands of your hair. neither of you had spoken a word in the past few minutes. you were both afraid if you did, you’d break the illusion that this could mean something.

so instead of speaking, the two of you got dressed and art left you with a kiss on the forehead. you sanitized every surface before your next client arrived. you knew just how fucked things were going to get, but for a moment you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

frat!art x reader

art was never the kind of guy to turn down a bet, no matter how stupid it was. that's why when his fellow brothers approached him with a bet to get a girl to fall in love with him, he was eager to say yes. after all, it usually just took some compliments and a crooked smile to get a girl hooked.

—

art approached you, solo cup in hand and baseball cap on backwards to tame his unruly curls. he'd been watching you for the last seven minutes and it was obvious you wanted to be anywhere but this party. your eyes flitted back and fourth between the clock, your friends, and the front door. it seemed like you were trying to work up the courage to tell your friends you were leaving. why you had to work up the courage to talk to your friends was unknown to art.

"hi," he smiled, sticking out one of his hands for you to shake. "i'm art." you gave him a weary look but shook his hand anyway.

"art? as in like a painting?" you asked. he could tell you were curious about his namesake but were too polite to ask. after all, it wasn't everyday that you met someone whose name had a definition in the dictionary.

he laughed at your question. "yeah, like the painting." you nodded but still looked at him like he was a puzzle you wanted to solve. "my parents are artists," he supplied. "hence the name."

"ah," you said. "that's really cute actually. they named you after something that they really loved." art paused because well, he'd never really thought of it that way. maybe it was cute that his parents named him after something they loved because they loved him. "anyways, why me?"

his brows scrunched in confusion. "what do you mean why you?" art downed the rest of the vodka that was in his cup. he never got nervous talking to girls, but you were different. you didn't try to flirt with him or try to lure him into your bed. you talked to him like he was any other person and it was refreshing and slightly unnerving.

"why'd you come talk to me? you don't even know me." you clarified, instinctively licking your lips. art's gaze instantly went down to the beautifully pink pillows- he shook his head before looking back up at your eyes.

he shrugged and went to take a sip from his cup before realizing it was empty. his cheeks flushed in embarrassment when you took notice of the action and giggled at him. "i don't know. you looked like you've been itching to leave."

you smiled and god, art thought he might pass out. he'd met a lot of really beautiful girls at stanford, but none of them had a smile like you did. he was instantly drawn to the way your eyes crinkled and your entire face lit up. your smiled at him like you were truly happy. "that's quiet observant of you," you teased. "i have been wanting to leave, but I'm working up the courage to tell my group."

he cocked his head at you, like a confused puppy. "why do you have to work up the courage to talk to your friends? shouldn't you be friends with people you're comfortable with?"

you shook your head. "they're not my friends." you supplied. at art's blank stare you continued, "they're my roommate's friends. i met them today." art hummed in understanding and thought of a way to help you out. he wasn't sure why he cared so much about helping you leave but you were nice and he had nothing better to do.

without a word he snaked a hand around your waist and gently pulled you over towards your friends. you shot him a bewildered look, but he just smiled and kept walking towards them. "hello ladies," he greeted. "you all look very lovely tonight." he shot them his famous crooked grin and glanced at your for a second.

the girls all looked amongst each other, all as confused as you were. your roommate raised her eyebrow at you and all you could do was shrug and try to hold back a laugh. "as much as i think you are all wonderful," art continues. "i'm going to be taking this lovely lady back with me." he didn't give them anytime to respond as he ushered you towards the front door.

you laughed to yourself. "thanks, you didn't have to do that for me." you felt yourself blushing at the incredibility of it all. a hot stranger was helping you leave a party and walking you back to your dorm? you felt like the main character of some cheesy romance novel.

art smiled at you, arm still firmly around your waist. "it's no problem. i wanted to leave anyways. if anything, you were doing me a favor." the walk back to your dorm was spent with you laughing at the outrageous frat stories art told and him with wide eyes and a loose jaw while you told him how boring your life was. he dropped you off at your dorm with an exchanging of phone numbers and a kiss on the cheek before he was leaving and heading back to his dorm.

you leaned up against the door, phone clutched in your hand and a wide smile on your face. you did a some happy jumping and screaming before getting ready for bed. that night you and art stayed up texting until the sun was peeking through your blinds. for a moment you found yourself thinking that this might be your future boyfriend.

it was hard watching your best friend ex-best friend have it all. he was the golden boy at stanford and everyone loved him. everyone wanted to be his friend, wanted to be something to him. it was so hard because you used to be everything to him and now you were nothing. you watched as art cycled through new best friends every few months and couldn’t help but smile. you knew it was awful to be happy when his friendships fell through, but it was what he deserved after what he did to you.

art had quickly learned that real friends were hard to come by. when you’re sought after, people will do whatever they need to do in order to get you to like them. countless people—who art thought could be real friends—showed their true colors after knowing him for a few months. they got comfortable and stopped putting up the facade that art first fell for. after his first three friendships went to shit, he sort of just stopped trying.

between class, tennis practice, and the occasional party, art stopped going out. he didn’t have anyone who he could just hangout with, so he stayed in his dorm bored out of his mind. during these mine numbing hours, art couldn’t help but think about you. when you had been friends, he’d usually be at your dorm watching a movie and taking shots every time a character said a specific word. art felt awful about the shitty things he’d said when he last saw you, but it was easier than being honest.

if art could back in time he would’ve told you the truth. he’d say that he knows he’s awful for never keeping up his end of his friend ship. he’d say that he got insecure when you started making new friends so in his mind the easiest way to cope was by making his own new friends and ignoring you. he’d say that not a day goes by where he misses you and that sometimes he goes to parties just to watch you across the room.

but art knows he’ll never say those things to you.

—

after midterms were over, all you wanted to do was lock yourself in your dorm and sleep all day, but your friends had other plans. after much convincing and some threatening, your friends had persuaded you to put on a hot outfit and come with them to a local frat party. although you’d never admit it out loud, you hoped that art would be there so that he could apologize for the things he’d done and said. or maybe so you could stare at him across the room. either was fine for you.

the party was sweaty and loud, much like any frat party. students were either making out with each other on any surface they could or downing alcohol like there was no tomorrow. your friends dragged you into the kitchen and poured shots which you all downed. a few rounds of beer pong later, you eventually ended up alone. some of your friends were whisked away by their partners or found someone to hook up with upstairs.

as you awkwardly held a half full solo cup and people watched from your spot on a couch, you noticed a familiar head of blond hair. it was hard to miss art in a party like this. he was tall and his hair always seemed to be glowing in a way that drew your eyes to it. you watched as he stood around on a circle, laughing with his friends. your heart clenched at the sight because once upon a time that had been you.

after downing your drink, you headed back to the kitchen for a refill, only to come face to face with your ex-best friend. his blue eyes were wide in shock as he stared at you. he’d wanted to talk to you sometime during this party, but he had yet to mentally prepare for the moment.

“h-hi,” he stammered, nervously licking his lips. his face was already red but you didn’t know if it was from the alcohol or from seeing you. you hoped it was the latter.

you gave him a tight lipped smile. sure he’d screwed you over, but it was nice to be polite to everyone—even to the people you were mad at. “hi.”

art glanced over your shoulder, as if expecting someone to have been with you. “where are your friends?” he asked, both hands clutching his solo cup like a lifeline.

“not here,” you answered shortly, turning your attention away from art and to the drinks. art frowned slightly as you topped your cup off. he wasn’t used to you giving him one-word answers or your deadpan expression.

he nodded. “so you’re just by yourself then?” he watched as you stiffened slightly at his question. “you could hangout with me,” he offered.

you couldn’t help but scoff at his audacity—you relished in the way he winced. “no thanks,” you said, turning on your heels and storming out of the kitchen.

—

after that interaction, art couldn’t get you off his mind. countless times he drafted up a long apology text, but he could never get himself to send it. he desperately wanted you back in his life and one night after one too many drinks, he was determined to get you back.

it was around three in the morning when you woke up from a text from art. your heart raced at the notification because it was something you hadn’t seen in years.

i know i was a shitty awful friend to you. i know i don’t deserve your forgiveness, but i just wanted to tell you that i’m sorry. i’m sorry that i stopped responding to your texts or never tried to make plans with you. i know this sounds so stupid, but i was insecure and afraid. i saw that you were making new friends and i was afraid that you’d leave me for them so i figured to ease the heartbreak by leaving you first. in hindsight i was stupid and idiotic and dumb and i wish i’d never done that. i wish i’d just held on to you a little tighter so that we’d still be friends today. you’re still my best friend and i love you, i’m sorry.

by the time you were two sentences in, you had already started crying. you had missed art so much and it was a relief to see that he had missed you two. you knew that starting your friendship again wasn’t going to be easy, but you missed your best friend.

part eight | nine | ten

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stalker!art donaldson x reader

the first time you found the letter sitting outside your dorm, you thought nothing of it. hundreds of students passed your dorm on the daily and it wasn’t uncommon that someone had dropped a paper or two. you skimmed the letter, trying to see if it was a homework assignment or just something you could toss, but you found it was neither.

is he all that you want? is he all that you need? i’d be there in a hurry, baby come back to me. i could build us a house down across the sea. i’d be there in a hurry, baby come back to me.

you were sympathetic for whatever person was supposed to be on the receiving end of the letter. it was clear their ex was jealous they had moved on and wrote the letter in hopes of getting them back. you ended up trashing the letter, trying to save anyone from their creepy ex.

not even a day later another letter arrived at your door. it wasn’t completely unusual for students to drop papers two days in a row, but was a rare occurrence. you asked some people who were passing by if it was there’s but everyone shook their heads no. once you were inside your dorm you read the paper to see what it said.

i’ll be all that you want. i’ll be all that you need. i’m outside your apartment. baby, come back to me. i just built us a house down across the sea, just to tell you i’m sorry. baby, come back to me.

you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your gut after you had finished reading. the first letter had been strange but you brushed it off as someone accidentally dropping it. but this, you knew wasn’t an accident—no one just happens to drop connecting letters outside your door.

you dashed over to your window to see if anyone was waiting outside but there wasn’t a sign of life. after shutting your blinds, you sat down on your bed trying to figure out your next move. the only thing that made this situation so confusing was the fact you didn’t have an ex boyfriend. your current boyfriend was the guy you’d met back in middle school. these letters seemed to be written in the perspective of someone who wants you back, suggesting they’d already had you at one point.

—

art had started to get sloppy with his stalking (although, he didn’t believe he was a stalker. in his words, he was simply keeping a protective eye over you.) he couldn’t stand having to see you and your boyfriend be sickeningly in love every day. art had waited years for the two of you to break up, but you never did.

after one too many beers in the confines of his dorm, art had decided to write and send you the first letter. it was sloppy and rushed but he needed you to know just how much he cared for you and wanted you to be happy. he saw the way you were less than happy with you boyfriend and he wanted to be a partner you would never feel disappointed with. he would be perfect for you only if you’d let him.

that night he climbed up onto the roof of the adjacent building to your dorm and watched as you read his letter. from his spot you couldn’t see him but he had the perfect view of you. most days he would climb up there to watch as you and your boyfriend sloppily made out on your bed (he had been a vouyeurist ever since he’s accidentally saw patrick and tashi getting it on).

art’s face fell when he saw the way you laughed after reading his work and casually tossed it into your trash like it had meant nothing to you. how could a girl so beautiful and kind be so cruel to him? after all the times he’d protected you while you walked alone at night and ensured you made it to your dorm safely, you threw away his precious gift to you? in that moment, art knew you needed another letter. one that would make you realize that it was meant for you. one that would make you realize someone out there loved you with all their being.

the next day he had slipped past your dorm and dropped the letter off. he was giddy as he made his way back up to the roof to watch your reaction. art felt like a kid on christmas as he studied your reaction. he adored the way your brows furrowed in confusion and he wanted to kiss the lines away.

the moment you stood by your window, searching for him, art nearly moaned at the sight of you. you were beautiful. your skin was illuminated by the warm orange glow from your lamp, your eyes seemed to sparkle in the moonlight. you looked like an angel and art had to have you. with jittering limbs art rushed off of the rooftop and to your dorm.

—

a sharp knock at your door broke you from your thoughts. who on earth could be knocking at this time of night? it suddenly occurred to you that the person standing outside could be the author of the two letters, so you pretended to be asleep.

you stayed quiet as their relentless pounding continued, in hopes they’d become discouraged and leave. art, on the other hand, was relentless. he had it in his mind that he had to have you and nothing would prevent him from that. he started taking running starts at your door, trying to knock it down.

as soon as he started doing that, you were on the phone with your boyfriend begging him to come do something. while you waited for him to come, you called campus security and hid in the bathroom.

tattoo artist!art donaldson x reader

you weren't even sure why you had booked an appointment to get a tattoo. you hated willingly inflicting any pain on yourself and were always been weary around needles. your friend had mentioned that the new tattoo artist at her work was cute and you wanted to see what he looked like. booking a session with him may not have been the smartest idea to put a face to the mysterious figure but you had already checked in and were nervously waiting to be called into the back.

it had taken you a little over a week to finally decided what you wanted to get, but eventually you settled on getting a small star by your collarbone. sure it was basic and incredibly simple but you were really only getting it just to get a glimpse of the artist himself.

you were quickly snapped out of your train of thought when a voice called out your name. you looked up and were met with a face of a man who wasn't just cute. he was probably the most attractive guy you'd seen in a long time. instantly you felt your face go pink when he held eye contact. you quickly stood up and awkwardly shuffled behind him as he lead you to the bench where you'd be laying.

"so you wanted a star, right?" he asked, sliding on some black latex gloves as you laid down on the bench.

you nodded but quickly realized he couldn't see you since he was busy looking through his cart of supplies. "yeah," you said, cringing at how uncasual you managed to say a single word. you cleared your throat. "just a star."

"i'm art by the way," he said, turning back to face you. he was smiling and you couldn't help but turn even more red—even his smile was ridiculously attractive.

"it's nice to meet you, art." you said, awkwardly holding out your hand for him to shake. his grip was firm but not too strong and you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like for those hands to be grabbing you.

"have you ever gotten a tattoo before?" he asked as he finished preparing all of his supplied.

you shook your head. "this is my first."

art smiled, "i guess I'll be taking your virginity then." a beat passed before art realized just how wrong that had come out. his face heated up and he averted his gaze. "i did not mean it like that," he stammered, hands shaking as he poured some ink into an ink cap.

you laughed softly and shook your head. "i get what you meant."

-

“how come you don’t have any tattoos of your own?” you asked as art started to work on the star you wanted.

he shrugged, “i want one but i’m not a huge fan on needles. plus my nanna would throw a fit if i got one.”

you nodded in understanding. “i mean the pain isn’t that bad. i hate needles but i’m doing okay.”

art paused his work and looked up at you with a smirk. “you’ve whimpered like five times in the past two minutes and have already asked for a break. i really don’t think you’re doing okay.”

you flushed in embarrassment, “okay but at least i’m brave enough to get a tattoo,” you muttered, halfheartedly glaring at him.

in response he laughed, setting his pen down. “that’s your best attempt at a glare?”

“will you just continue tattooing?”

he shook his head, “i can’t. i’m laughing too much and my hand will probably slip if i continue working.”

a tattoo that should’ve taken less than 10 minutes ended up taking a whopping hour to complete. you didn’t mind because you got to spend more time talking to art. during your session you found out how he got into the business of being a tattoo artist, his favorite color, what college he went to, and his dog’s name. you weren’t sure whether he was flirting or just being friendly but you didn’t mind. simply having his attention was more than enough for you.

after art had explained to you the procedure for caring for you new tattoo, you were reluctant to leave. you knew that once you stepped foot out of the shop, you’d had no other way of contacting him besides booking another session.

“do you think i could get your number?” you blurted as art handed back your credit card. he blinked in surprise, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words to respond.

“you- you want my number?” he asked incredulously. in his years of working he’d had many girls ask for his number but this was the first time that he’d actually wanted to give it to a customer. as soon as you nodded he was scrambling to find a piece of paper to put down his number.

he ended up tearing off a corner from the design booklet so that he could scrawl down his phone number. “here,” he said, almost breathlessly.

part seven | eight | nine

a/n: i'm so sad this series is coming to an end

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artdonaldson • close friends

part six | seven | eight

a/n: the texts switch groups mid convo so be sure to check the group chat name!

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“how was the first day back?” art asks, a smile gracing his lips. he can tell by the way your hair is slightly greasy at the top—from running your hands through it—that today hadn’t been easy for you. the first day of school never was. kids are still buzzing with energy from the summer and don’t quite believe that they’re at school again.

wordlessly he takes your bag and coat from you, hanging them up behind the door. before you can even take your shoes off, art is ushering you to sit down in the kitchen. he kneels in front of you, unlatching the buckle of your heels and gives the soles of your feet a slight squeeze. he’ll never understand why you insist on wearing heels to school even when he knows they can’t be comfortable.

you look down at him, running a hand through his curls that are starting to grow back. now that he’s retired from tennis, he’s allowing his hair to return to the state it was when you first met him. art looks up at you, grabbing your free hand and kissing your wrist. he trails the kisses up your arm, standing up as he does, until he’s mouthing at the skin of your neck.

“you never answered my question,” he hums against your skin. he knows not to leave any visible marks on you because you don’t want your students questioning them.

you laugh softly. “it was stressful, like it always is.” you continue running your hand through his hair. you always look forward to coming home from work because you know art is counting down the hours to see you.

“there’s a bath running for you,” arts says, detaching his lips from your neck and standing back up to his full height. he holds a hand out for you and leads you to the en-suite bathroom.

the two of you lay cuddled up in bed, art tracing shapes on your arm. “are the kids good this year?” he asks, shifting the two of you so that he can look at your face.

you take a moment to think about your new group of students. they were definitely noisier than last year’s kids but from what you could tell, most of them were good kids. you were lucky to not have been graced with any delinquents over your five years of teaching elementary school kids. “they’re loud but good.” you answer, looking at art. “how was lily on her first day back?”

he nods thoughtfully at your answer. “she was okay. almost cried but i told her that tashi would give her ice cream when she came home.” art smiles fondly at the memory.

“how are tashi and patrick?” you ask curiously. with you back at work and tennis season starting up again, the four of you hadn’t had a chance to catch up recently.

“they’re good. sometimes patrick calls me to complain about the diet that tashi put him on. last week he made me describe the burger i was eating in excruciating detail.”

that elicits a laugh from you. “god, that is just so patrick.” you shake your head. art nuzzles his face into the side of your neck.

“i missed you today,” he murmurs into your skin. he rolls you onto your back and crawls over you. art takes a moment to study your face, as if he was going to be tasked with recalling every detail from memory.

you watch him as his eyes trace over all of your features and finally settle on your lips. he dips his head down, pressing his lips against yours. the kiss is soft and sweet for a moment before his tongue is gently coaxing your lips apart. the moment they give way, his tongue is sliding into your mouth and the kiss becomes much sloppier but more intense.

one of art’s hands hold the back of your head as he kisses you while the other trails down to your ass so that he can grope at it. you moan into the kiss and art pulls back to smirk at you.

“you’re going to have to be louder. my hearing gets worse the older i get,” he teases when you roll your eyes at him. there is nothing art loves more than when you make any sounds while he touches you.

you grin. “okay grandpa,” you say loudly. “can you hear me now?” you laugh when art’s nose wrinkles at how loud you’re speaking/yelling.

“okay smartass,” he grumbles, pulling you into a kiss once more. one of your hands slide under his gray t-shirt while the other tugs at his blue pajama pants.

“i want these off,” you say, breaking the kiss. art is quick to do as you say, pulling away from you only to slip off his pajama bottoms and tug his shirt over his head. the clothes are thrown haphazardly across the room.

“i want this off,” art says, sliding his hands under hem of your nightgown. his hands are cold against your skin. art smirks when his hands reach your breasts and your nipples instantly harden under his touch.

you glare at him “not a word.”

“i wasn’t going to.” he laughs, helping you sit up so that he can remove your clothes. once the nightgown is off, his hands travel over your bare skin in hopes of touching every inch that he possibly can.

the two of you lay sated in bed, breathing heavily as you both recover. art’s back is covered in red lines from where you scratched him up and your chest and stomach are covered in hickeys that are starting to turn from red to blue and purple.

“do you think you could skip school tomorrow?” art asks, staring at the ceiling.

you scoff, “nice try mister. school just started. i can’t be calling in sick on the second day of school just because you want to have a fuck fest.”

he sits up on his elbows, smiling at you. “it was worth a try, no?”

bonus scene:

you, art, tashi, and patrick sit at the dining room table staring at the report card in front of you. lily’s semester report came back and the results were surprising to say the least.

“i just really don’t understand how that could happen.” you say, glancing between art and tashi. “i mean she is your kid. you would think she’d excel at sports.”

tashi snorts, “well clearly she didn’t inherit that from either of us.” she picks up the reporter card in front of her and sighs.

patrick tries to hold back a laugh. “i can’t believe she got a C in PE of all classes. even i wasn’t that bad of a student.” in return three sets of eyes glare at him and he holds his hands up in surrender.

art absentmindedly rubs your thigh. “do you think you could talk to her PE teacher? i mean you guys work together.” he shrugs, turning to look at you.

a/n: i made myself cry while writing this. maybe it’s because this happened to me lol

“do you think we’ll ever lose touch?”

“why would that happen?”

“you’ll be on the tennis team. maybe you’ll become too busy for me.”

“that’s bullshit.”

that conversation had been playing in your head in a loop from the moment you stepped foot into the crowded frat house and your eyes landed on art. the two of you hadn’t talked since freshman year and that had been nearly three years ago. the falling out hadn’t been messy or full of drama—it had been slow and gradual. the kind of loss of friendship that happens naturally and neither party is brave enough to acknowledge it. you thought that losing your best friend wouldn’t have been that easy but it was simple. whenever you reached out he wouldn’t respond for days and then you found yourself waiting for him to text first—he never did. sometimes you laid in bed and wondered if the loss of your guys’ friendship affected him as much as it did you. you wondered if he laid in bed mourning the loss of his best friend like you did.

you watched as art chatted happily with his friends, beer sloshing whenever they would clink their glasses together. you couldn’t help but feel a dull ache in the pit of your stomach when you saw how happy he was with his other friends. he had been your best friend and now he was practically a stranger.

the rest of the party had gone by in a blur—you downing shots and quickly leaving the room whenever art’s group entered it. before you knew it, your friends were all heading out but you lingered behind. normally you wouldn’t have even thought about talking to art but under the influence of a few drinks it felt like a great idea. you waited for art to slip off to the bathroom before following after him.

“art,” you said, your words slightly slurred. you watched as he turned around with a smirk on his face and how it faltered when he realized who had been talking. an uncomfortable silence settled over the both of you, the music from the other room vibrating through the walls.

he cleared his throat. “oh, um… long time no see.” his voice was strained and his shoulders were tense as he looked everywhere but you.

you took a small step forward. “that’s all you have to say?” you nearly scoff. after all this time you would’ve thought he missed you or at least had the decency to lie to you and say he did.

art’s eyes finally lifted to meet yours. “what else am i supposed to say?” he took a step forward and the both of you were just a foot apart.

“maybe asking me how i’ve been doing these past three years would be a good fucking start.” you felt yourself getting angry at him but you couldn’t help it. he was acting like you hadn’t been his best friend since elementary school.

he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “can we not do this right now? i need to use the ba-”

you cut him off before he could finish his sentence. “if we don’t do this right now we’re never going to have this conversation,” you said firmly. “all i want to know is why you stopped being my friend.” you rapidly blinked away the tears that were threatening to fall. merely thinking about the loss of friendship made you upset but seeing him blatantly disregard the years you spent together was like a knife to your heart.

art winced at your tone and how you were about to cry. he always hated it when you cried. “i- we didn’t… it just happened.”

your brows furrowed in confusion. “it just…happened?”

he shrugged, “you know, we just lost touch. it was bound to happen.” his words shocked you into silence. “listen i have to go,” he said, offering you a weak smile and headed towards the bathroom.

you stood in the middle of the hall watching once more as your best friend slipped from your grasp. you hadn’t even noticed the tears falling down your cheeks until you tasted the salt on your lips.

"do you think we'll ever lose touch?"

"why would that happen?"

"you'll be on the tennis team. maybe you'll become too busy for me."